


Saudades Until Sunset

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brief Sex, Eventual Sex, Happy Ending, I haven't actually seen Infinity War yet, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), not explicit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 20:57:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14962055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: saudade; a deep emotional state of nostalgic or profound melancholic longing for an absent something or someone that one loves. it often carries a repressed knowledge that the object of longing might never return.Steve, believing that Tony is dead, goes to the Avenger Tower.





	Saudades Until Sunset

**Author's Note:**

> Note: I have not yet seen Infinity War, this is my interpretation on what has been spoiled to me. Does not follow canon (or maybe it does/will. Who knows)

What possesses Steve to seek refuge in the Tower? He’s not quite sure yet, but the door opens effortlessly when he wraps his fingers around the handle. Months ago, Steve expected entering the Tower and being met with locks and guards, guns aimed and eyes glaring at him. But as he steps inside, he’s met with nothing. He shivers, and thinks that he would have prefered staring down the barrel of a gun.

When he passes through the living room, he goes to the “Wall of Stark”. He hadn’t named the wall, but it had been named by Clint, who had sarcastically asked “What’s being added to the Wall of Stark now?”

_Tony had swivelled around on his heel, famous smirk spreading across his wicked lips. “Wall of Stark,” he repeated, “I like the sound of that.”_

The wall had started with Tony pinning all newspaper articles and headlines that Iron Man had been mentioned in. They had all started positively, and when Steve had asked him about it one night, when the others had all gone to their floors, Tony had merely shrugged and replied, “ _Seeing these reminds me that I’m not all bad. Let’s me pretend I’m good_ ,”

And Steve didn’t really understand why, but hearing him say that broke his heart. He wanted to reach out, touch Tony’s shoulder, and tell him “I think you’re a good person.” but he hadn’t.

As the years passed, after Loki, Ultron, and even during the Accords, the Wall of Stark had undergone many different phases. Iron Man being praised as a hero. Iron Man being antagonized as a threat to the world. Steve imagined that it became difficult to find praise for Iron Man as the world began to turn their backs to him. He regrets never telling Tony that he believed he was good. Eventually the wall even grew to include the other Avengers, but Tony insisted on only ever including the positives for the others. HAWKEYE SHOWS SUPPORT FOR LOCAL DEAF SCHOOLS. BANNER BREAKS BARRIERS IN BIOMEDICAL CHEMISTRY. These uplifting headlines made the Iron Man backlash all the more apparent. IRON MAN— HERO TO ZERO. EX LEAKS STARK SEX TAPE. THE HERO WITHOUT A HEART. Steve’s fingers brush against the tabloid hate, and he tears them off the wall. He takes them apart, throwing them into the trash, before rearranging the wall. He pins an old article next to one of his. STARK’S HEART— IRON MAN DONATES MILLIONS TO HEART SURGERY. Steve smiles triumphantly and heads upstairs.

His old room was on the highest floor, so he goes there. He takes the stairs, and remembers as he passes by each of his old teammates’ floors. He thinks about where they might be now, what they’re doing, what they’re thinking about. When he passes by Tony’s floor, his thoughts go quiet. Finally, he reaches his floor.

Tony specifically gave him the highest floor because of the view.

_“Can’t miss it—best view of the sunrise in the entire Tower,” Tony said, back turned to him as he continued to tinker with one of the screens in front of him. “I had a few easels and art things brought up. Feel free to set them up as you want.”_

_“Really?” Steve smiles, “Thanks, Tony.”_

_Tony glances back at him, and they share a moment together. Steve’s smile widens— as he notices the faint flush which grows on Tony’s cheeks, he decides that perhaps there are still glimmers of humanity in this world. (And perhaps Tony Stark was one of them). But then Banner comes in to ask Tony a question about J.A.R.V.I.S.’s telecommunications system and their moment is over._

It was rumored that Tony had sold everything in the Tower, and had even sold the Tower, choosing to relocate to the Compound. But when he gets to his studio, Steve notices an easel with an unfinished sunrise, untouched. When he swipes a finger down the side to inspect the dust, his finger is bare. How odd.

Suddenly, Steve feels like he’s being watched. He slumps his bag off of his shoulder and onto his bed, before deciding to go for an afternoon run.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so maybe Tony was watching Steve. But who could blame him— the guy had grown a fucking _beard_. He was in his workshop when F.R.I.D.A.Y. alerted him of the trespasser at the door.

_“Shall I activate intruder protocol, sir?”_

He waves a hand absently, but lifts up his welding helmet. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., face scan?”

“ _Scanning…”_ Tony sets down the helmet onto the table. “ _Face recognized. Steven Grant Rogers.”_

His eyes narrow, and his feet carry him to the surveillance screen.

“ _S_ _hall I activate intruder protocol?”_

“Let him in,” A voice says. It doesn’t register to Tony for minutes before he realizes it was his own voice.

He just stands there, in front of the massive screen, watching Steve as he slowly enters the Tower. Steve marvels at the emptiness, and suddenly Tony, who has been residing in the Tower since The Snap, only now sees how barren the place looks. The air seems cold, the space seems so empty. He’s lonely, Tony realizes. Steve looks around skeptically, as if expecting the security systems to go off. “ _Sir, should I alert him of your presence?”_

Tony shakes his head, suddenly feeling very small in his own tower. “No— No, I don’t want him to know I’m here at all.”

“ _Do you plan on hiding in your workshop all day then?”_

He pauses, “Maybe.”

_“I’ll bring your afternoon coffee down here then._ ”

“Thanks, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

So Tony watches, coffee in hand, as Steve rearranges the Wall of Stark. His heart rate quickens and he watches Steve take down the hateful tabloids and gossip headlines, but his heart stops altogether as he watches Steve pin down the Iron Man article next to the Captain America one. It’s foolish, really, but when he watches the smile grow on Steve’s face, he feels a little less silly for the smile on his own face. God, it’s been so long since he’s smiled.

He doesn’t go back to tinkering, instead pulling up his stool to watch the screen as Steve makes his way up to his floor. He gave it to Steve specifically for the view of the sunrise. That was when he idolized Captain America— he’d have given Steve the sun itself if he could. But that was then, and now, as Steve walks past his door without a second glance, Tony’s jaw tightens.

Inside Steve’s room, Tony’s eyes narrow on the bag that he leaves. As Steve leaves the Tower, he stands up. “I wonder what’s in that bag,” he says to himself as he makes his way to the door.

“ _If you want to stay unseen, should you really go through Steven’s belongings?”_

Tony doesn’t answer as he heads up to Steve’s room.

 

After dumping out the contents of his bag, he doesn’t find what he was looking for. Suddenly, the flip phone in his pocket burns, as if longing for its counterpart. He shoves the supplies back into the bag and heads back down to the workshop. When he gets down there, he puts on his welding helmet and gets back to work.

 

* * *

 

He's trying to escape his thoughts, and yet they keep catching up to him. As he runs, the flip phone in his pocket seems to get heavier and heavier. After only doing one lap around the city, he’s tired. Maybe it’s because he’s old. Maybe it’s because the city seems much larger when it’s empty. But for now, he’s tired, so he retreats back into the Tower.

_“Good afternoon, Captain America.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoes through the Tower.

He jumps lightly. “Hello? I was here earlier,” he explains, before mentally kicking himself. Of course F.R.I.D.A.Y. knows he was here earlier.

“ _I_ _know_ ,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. “ _Would you like anything?”_

“What?”

_“Mr. Stark requested that all Avengers who enter the Tower be taken care of. Would you like anything?”_

“Oh,” Steve shrugs, before his eyes go back to the Wall of Stark. “Oh. I— Can I go into his room?”

“ _Who? Mr. Stark?_ ”

“Yeah. I just—” he goes quiet. “I just want to say goodbye.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. is quiet, before replying softly, “ _Of course, Captain.”_

 

* * *

 

Tony puts down the microphone and runs a hand through his hair. “Sorry, F.R.I.D.A.Y., I just— I wanted to talk to him.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y., or the real one, anyway, replies quickly. _“Of course, Mr. Stark. Shall I unlock your bedroom?”_

Tony blinks. Oh, right, he just agreed to let Steve into his room, didn’t he? He scrubs a hand down his face. “Uh, yeah. Sure.”

 

* * *

 

When he gets into Tony’s room, he feels out of place. It’s so high-tech, so future, so _Tony_ . And he is plain, so past, so _Steve_. And yet the room beckons to him, so he explores.

He smells one of Tony’s jackets and feels guilty about it. He lies down on Tony’s bed and feels guilty about it. He thinks about Tony and just feels guilty about it all. Why didn’t he check in on Tony at all?

He doesn’t remember falling asleep on Tony’s bed, but it felt right to be there, so he doesn’t feel too bad about it.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s hand is on the _call_ button. He’s about to call Steve. He’s about to tell him he’s alive. He’s about to tell him he’s sorry. But he watches wordlessly as Steve falls asleep on the bed, and decides that he’ll just have to wait.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” He asks gently.

“ _Yes, sir?”_

“Make sure when Steve wakes up, he eats dinner. He looks like a sick puppy.”

_“Of course, sir.”_

He moves back to his desk and goes back to work.

 

* * *

 

Steve wakes up to the smell of Italian. When he shuffles down to the dining room, Tony’s blanket wrapped around his shoulders, he sees takeout on the table.

“ _Mr. Stark doesn’t allow the bots to use the stove anymore.”_ F.R.I.D.A.Y. tells him. “ _I hope you like Alfredo._ ”

Steve sits down, and DUM-E pushes a box towards him. He blinks at the name of the restaurant, printed on the box. “ _Murphy’s_ ? There was a _Murphy’s_ down the street from my home in Brooklyn,” he opens the box and grabs a fork. “Ma used to get it for us on holidays when we could afford it.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. stays quiet. Steve begins to eat, but pauses. “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“ _Yes, Captain?_ ”

“Why did you go all the way out to Murphy’s?” His eyes narrow. “I’ve only ever mentioned _Murphy’s_ to Tony.”

“ _Well, you know how talkative Tony is. Was.”_

DUM-E suddenly bumps into the wall on his way to the elevator. In his robotic grasp, a second box of _Murphy’s_.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Steve says slowly. “Who’s that box for,” he asks, pointing with his fork.

F.R.I.D.A.Y. goes quiet. “ _DUM-E ordered too much. He’s going to dispose of it._ ”

“Huh,” Steve frowns, and stands up. He follows DUM-E to the elevator, but DUM-E closes the elevator door before he can get there.

So he heads towards the stairs. “ _Sir_ — _I ask that you continue to eat.”_

“Tony—”

“ _I am under strict orders to make sure you eat.”_

“Tony, I know that it’s you.”

“ _Sir_ — Captain—”

“Open the door, F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

The workshop door opens.

 

* * *

 

Tony’s breathing is ragged, left arm twitching as he shuts his eyes. “Good stalling, F.R.I.D.A.Y.” he whispers. He’s smooshed, hiding in one of his old prototype suits. God, how did he ever survive in one of these pieces of shit? He holds his breath as Steve passes by, but when he looks at the line of Iron Man suits, Tony swears that he’s staring right at him.

He watches Steve smile mirthlessly, and look to the ground. “Sorry, F.R.I.D.A.Y., I didn’t mean to snap at you. I was just— I really thought—” he laughs sadly, and runs a hand down his face. “I thought he was here.”

Steve returns back upstairs without another word. When he gets out of the suit, DUM-E forces the box of alfredo back into his hands. Tony smiles, but suddenly doesn’t feel so hungry.

 

* * *

 

After he eats alone, Steve showers alone, and he sits on the bed alone. It’s Tony’s room, and he still feels out of place, but as each moment passes he decides that maybe he’s just out of place in the world. Maybe his own world died a long time ago. Maybe Tony’s world died before he even got here, too. Perhaps it’s that feeling of wrongness and isolation that draws them together, that sense of feeling disconnected from the world around them is the glue that holds them together, for better or for worse. He misses Tony.

Suddenly, he gets a call.

“Hello?”

“Steve,” Tony breathes out. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says again.

Tony laughs. “Salutations. I hope you know, I have a thesaurus here, I could go back and forth with these greetings all day—”

“I thought you were dead.” Steve says, “You didn’t call.”

“Yeah,” he pauses. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He says. “I’m sorry, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony tells him, but he does anyway.

“No, I— I hurt you.”

“Join the club.” He says. He can imagine Tony’s face, apathetic, or maybe just resigned. “I’ve been hurt before and I’ll be hurt again. It’s nothing new, Cap.”

“I’m sorry.” Steve says.

“It’s okay.” Tony tells him, and he means it.

Steve didn’t realize he was crying, but he sniffles, and he laughs.

“You’re crying?”

He nods. “Yeah, I am.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., tissues for the crying Capsicle?”

“Have you been watching me all day?” Steve asks, reaching for one of the tissues that appeared from the wall.

“Maybe. Someone has to take care of you. Besides, you’re the one in my room right now.”

“Someone has to take care of you, too.”

“Well...” Steve can imagine Tony shrugging. He smiles.

“Where are you?”

There’s a knock on the door. Steve laughs in disbelief, looks up at the camera in the room, before ending the call and making his way to the door.

 

* * *

 

“Hello,” He says, looking up at Steve.

“Hi,” Steve says, looking down at him.

“So—”

Steve kisses him. It’s calculated and random. Sloppy and precise. “You’re okay,” Steve tells him, murmuring it roughly against his lips.

“Better than okay now,” Tony hums back, kissing him quickly.

“You’re okay,” Steve repeats onto Tony’s lips.

Tony imagined Steve being a shit kisser, and yet his knees almost give out when Steve’s tongue swipes across his lower lip. He retaliates by taking Steve’s lower lip between his teeth and pulling on it. Steve lets out a low groan and grabs Tony’s neck, pulling him closer. His hands find Steve’s hair, and he gives it a tug. Steve’s other hand finds Tony’s hip, gives it a desperate squeeze as he grinds his hips forward. Tony sees stars, he imagines waking up the next day and finding blue and purple ghosts of Steve’s grip on his hip and he loves it.

Tony breaks the kiss to look him in the eyes. Steve’s eyes are clouded, dark, nothing like he had ever seen before, and there’s something about the rawness of his gaze that sends a jolt of interest to his dick with each ragged breath shared between the two of them. “What is this, exactly?” He breathes out.

“I don’t know. Sex?” Steve asks, and for a second, Tony’s world explodes. The word seems foreign, coming out of golden-boy’s mouth, and yet it seems so natural. Tony doesn’t quite know what their relationship is at the moment (enimi, but sex sounds like a plan. A great plan.

Tony rolls his eyes. “I figured as much— I mean, what kind of sex is this? Hate sex? Make-up sex?”

“I don’t know,” Steve repeats, and there’s the snark again. Tony tilts his head to the side, and suddenly Steve’s hand is around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and planting his lips to Tony’s skin. It’s an odd combination of gentle kisses and biting, in between a low murmur. “I’m glad you’re safe. I think. But I hate you. But I think I love you a little bit.”

“Ah,” Tony rolls his hips into Steve, who groans into his neck. “That’s my favorite kind of sex.”

 

Pulling each other into Tony's bedroom is unceremoniously graceless, as is the hurried race to discard their clothes. Halfway through unbuttoning his shirt, Steve decides to just leave it on, and he hovers over Tony’s smaller frame.

“Fuck,” Tony says, taking in the sight of Steve and memorizing it.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Steve mutters, settling between his legs and reattaching their lips.

“You have me— better make it count, Steve,” Tony says, reaching down to squeeze at the tent in Steve’s pants.

Steve groans against his lips.

“Lube— drawer,” Tony manages to get out between breathy kisses. He drags a hand down Steve’s chest, and Steve opens the drawer of Tony’s nightstand. Steve snakes his free hand under Tony’s shirt. “Ah-ah-ah,”

“Mm,” Steve hums, sitting back as he pulls the lube into view.

“I just— you know— scars,” Tony says, face heating up with embarrassment. Steve looks so comfortable, even when he’s sitting between Tony’s legs. He has the power to radiate comfort, and it’s a sort of nostalgic-homesick feeling he feels in his gut when Steve runs his hand up and down Tony’s side comfortingly.

“You’re okay.” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Tony’s clothed shoulder. Then, trailing down to his chest, down his ribcage, down his torso. “God, you’re so beautiful.” He says, before taking the end of Tony’s shirt in his hands. “May I?”

Tony nods, words failing him.

Steve begins to lift the shirt, and starts the whole process over. Kissing up and down his chest, each of his scars. “You’re okay.” Steve whispers. Tony’s skin blossoms with blotches of angry reds and pinks, and he groans in frustration as he coaxes Tony to flip over. He grabs a pillow to provide relief to his elbows, but he drops his shoulders down, waving his ass in the air. Steve laughs softly, helping him out of his pants, as he smooths his other hand down Tony’s back. “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay.” He murmurs, again and again.

Tony blushes harder, and presses his ass into the air. “Shut up and fuck me.”

He glances back to see Steve smile, as he does just that.

 

* * *

 

“Your pillowtalk is outdated. Quit being so sappy. Tell me about how nice my ass is,” Tony tells him.

“I’m being serious!” He laughs, running a hand through Tony’s hair. With the way Tony limbs are wrapped around him, his body seems to shake when Steve laughs, but Tony rests his chin on his chest and stares up at him. “I missed you so much, I— it’s like I _craved_ you. I yearned for you, and I didn’t even know if you were alive.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “ _Yearned_ ,” he mutters disapprovingly.

“And in the back of my mind, I knew deep down that I might never be able to have you.”

“Well, you have me.” Tony says, and rests his head against Steve’s chest. Quieter now, he murmurs, “You’ll always have me.”

Steve smiles, and looks out the window. “Your floor has a good view of the sunset.”

“The sunset is at 7:30. Are we really going to bed that early?” Tony groans. “God, we’re so old.”

“We’re sappy old men.”

“You’re the sappy one,” Tony mumbles.

“Are you’re about to fall asleep on me.”

“Hmph.”

Steve presses a kiss to Tony’s hair. “You’re okay.” He whispers to himself. “You’re _okay_.”

“Not for long. Thanos is still out there.”

“But for now, you’re okay. We’re okay. We’ll just have to take this a day at a time, Tony. Sweet dreams.”

Eventually, Tony falls asleep, but Steve stays up to watch sunset paint Tony’s back tones of amber and gold. Only then, when the sun is down, does Steve let himself surrender to sleep.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to make the ending more sad and foreshadowy, but since I haven't seen the movie I don't really know what happens lol.  
> Also Steve keeps saying "you're okay" because he's reassuring himself that Tony is okay, idk if that was clear whoops.
> 
> Requests are open, find me on Tumblr @ thereisgamora.tumblr.com


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